


We Could be Beautiful

by amutemockingjay



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Burr is Heather Chandler, Crack, Eliza is a cinnamon roll, Eventual Smut, I am literal theatre trash, I can't even apologize for this it's too fun, Laurens is Veronica, M/M, Sorry Not Sorry, The unholiest of crossovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8610769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amutemockingjay/pseuds/amutemockingjay
Summary: All John Laurens asked for was to survive high school in one piece. Unfortunately for him, Aaron Burr had other plans. 
aka the Lams Heathers AU no one asked for.





	1. Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> I should be ashamed for this but I'm really, really not. This came to fruition as a joke between my best friend and I, like we were fancasting the Hamilton characters as Heathers the Musical. And then I went ahead and wrote it like the trash that I am. I originally thought the Heathers should be made up of Burr, Jefferson, and Madison, but instead I chose Burr as Chandler, Lafayette as Duke, and Mulligan as McNamara for reasons that will be revealed later. Anyway, enjoy, and do let me know what you think in the comments!

September 1st, 1989

First day of senior year, and John Laurens was already done with it all. He slumped down in the cafeteria, eyes on the ground, shoulders hunched over. Same pose he had kept for almost four years now. He could survive this. Once his letter came from Harvard, Duke, or Brown he would leave this town forever and not look back for a single second. Away from his father—thank every God for that—and away from the population of Westerberg High School.

He honestly believed that he was a good person. He just had to survive. Survive, and get through, and everything would be all right. That was all he could ask for. As he looked around the cafeteria, he couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to all his classmates. He had known them all his life, and here they were, tearing each other apart on a social hierarchy that made little to no sense. It would be beautiful, if they could all get along.

“Hey,” A quiet voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He smiled, when he saw who it was.

“Eliza!”

Eliza Schuyler had been his best friend ever since kindergarten. Always shy, quiet, and gentle, she had survived high school by the skin of her teeth, constantly picked on by Maria Reynolds and Theodosia Bartow, the most popular cheerleaders at Westerberg. What they wanted with sweet Eliza was beyond Laurens, but he would always stand up for her.

There was a clatter as Maria smacked Eliza’s lunch tray out of her outstretched hands, sending it (and her lunch) face down on the greasy floor. Eliza’s cheeks turned bright red as she began to bend down and pick up the mess.

Laurens gave Maria a death glare, his voice low and dangerous. “Pick that up, and apologize.”

“I’m sorry, did you say something to me, fag?” Maria sidestepped him with ease.  

“I said, pick that up, and apologize.”

“John, really, it’s all right—“ Eliza was still on the ground.

“No, no it’s not. Tell me, what gives you the right to pick on my friend? You’re a high school has-been waiting to happen.”

“John, please, I don’t want a fight.” Eliza bent over the tray.

He couldn’t help it, though—his blood ran hot when he thought of the years of humiliation Eliza had endured under them. Made even worse by the fact that Eliza had a hopeless crush on Maria ever since their kindergarten days.

“Better listen to the loser, if you know what’s good for you, nerd.” Theodosia Bartow was the smartest girl on the cheerleading squad, not that it made much of a difference.

Laurens reached over and took Eliza’s trembling hands in his own. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She nodded silently, and the two departed from the cafeteria, her hand still loosely held in his.

“Are we still on for movie night?” Laurens asked as soon as they were in the hall.

Eliza nodded eagerly. “I rented 101 Dalmatians.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Again?”

She gave him a small smile and he swore his heart skipped a beat. “What can I say, I’m a sucker for puppies and a happy ending.”

“Can’t blame you for that.” They stopped in front of the girls’ restroom. She dipped in. “I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared, and he leaned up the row of lockers, crossing his arms over his chest. The hallway was deserted; everyone crowded around the cafeteria for the barely edible food. That was when he heard the footsteps. Three sets of them, all in tandem. And he knew—just like everyone at Westerberg knew—exactly who it was.  The most popular guys in school—the Squad, as they were referred to as such—never had to worry about getting their lunch trays smacked out of their hands, or being tripped in the halls. They dated girls like Maria or Theodosia, existing in their own bubble, where nothing could touch them.

First there was Hercules Mulligan, the brawn. A gossip master, he was well known for his ability to blend in anywhere (despite his height) and hear everything about to go down. A spy on the inside, as it were. Then there was Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, better known as Lafayette to everyone at Westerberg. All charm, he was a foreign exchange student from France, and rumor had it, descended from actual French nobility. And then there was Burr. Aaron Burr, the Almighty. Aaron Burr, who Laurens swore was made of actual Teflon. Nothing ever rattled the guy. Aaron Burr, who took the phrase “Wait for it” to the next level.

Laurens immediately dropped his gaze to the ground. He didn’t want to them to notice him. Being invisible, that was all he could ask for. His prayers were answered. The Squad rolled past him without a spare glance.

“Aaron Burr, sir!” Both Laurens and Aaron turned towards the sound of one of their teachers’ voices, a George Washington.

“Mr. Washington, sir.” Aaron said.

“You’re late to class.”

“We were on our way.” Laurens could see the irritation in Burr’s features.

“Oui, monsieur Washington, we were on our way,” echoed Lafayette.

“Shut up, Laf,” Burr snapped.

“Sorry, Burr.”

Mr. Washington glanced them up and down. “I don’t see a hall pass. Week’s detention, all of you.”

Laurens pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. “Actually, sir, all four of us are on a hall pass. Yearbook committee.”

Washington studied the paper with scrutiny. “I see all four of you are listed. Very well. Get to where you’re going, no dawdling now.”

“Yes, sir.” Washington handed the pass back to Laurens, and disappeared around the corner.

Burr approached Laurens, taking him in with those liquid brown eyes. He snatched the hall pass out of Laurens’ hands.

“This is an excellent forgery. What did you say your name was, again?”

“I didn’t. John. John Laurens. I crave a boon.”

Burr narrowed his eyes. “What boon?”

“To sit at your table. A lunch. Just once. No talking necessary. If people think you tolerate me, they’ll leave me alone. And before you answer, I can forge report cards, permission slips, and absence notes.”

“Hmmm.” Burr tapped his index finger on his chin.

“What about prescriptions?” Lafayette asked.

“Shut up, Laf.”

“Sorry, Burr.”

“Mulligan.” Burr snapped his fingers and Mulligan stepped forward. “What do you think? Excellent bone structure, no?”

Mulligan nodded. “And those freckles…”

“You.” Burr pointed to Laurens. “Turn around.”

Laurens did as he was told, though he felt a bit like a cow at a county fair, being inspected from all angles.

“He has potential,” Burr said to Lafayette. Mulligan nodded in agreement.

“Got to do something about the way he dresses,” Mulligan added.

Burr brushed away the concern. “That’ll be fixed.” He turned to Laurens. “So, what say you?”

“Yes?” Laurens wasn’t entirely certain what he was agreeing to, but couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just entered a deal with the devil.

The smile Burr gave him was unnerving. “Excellent. John Laurens, welcome to the squad.”


	2. Candy Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my candy store/Laurens learns that cucumber vodka is not his friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies! I have been trying to get a little more creative in my adaption here so enjoy some more original scenes and more Eliza! Eliza/Laurens friendship with biromantic Laurens is one of my very favorite headcanons so it has a tendency to slip into a lot of my fics, even if this is a primarily Lams fic.

He was at home when he heard the car pull up. Longing for Eliza, it had been a week since that faithful day, and he had barely seen her since. Burr hadn’t allowed much for interactions outside of the Squad, and already he was wishing he could curl up with Eliza, some Jiffy Pop, and a harmless Disney movie. That sounded like paradise.

“LAURENS!” All three of them were yelling at the same time. Laurens peered through the curtains in his living room.

Burr sat in the driver’s seat of a bright red Porsche, flanked by Lafayette and Mulligan. Mulligan’s voice carried the furthest, though Laurens could pick out Lafayette’s accent as well.

“Who’s that?” His sister, Martha, peered through the curtains eagerly.

“Nothing,” Laurens said quickly. He reached for his jacket on the back of the couch. “Tell Dad I’ve gone out with some friends, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Get your ass in here, Laurens!” Mulligan held a bottle aloft.

Laurens felt his heart sink. He had a passing acquaintance with alcohol, but not much more than that, having spent his entire high school career watching Disney movies with Eliza. And playing with her puppies. He found himself longing for the puppies. Puppies would be much better than Aaron Burr. He clambered into the backseat, squeezing himself between Mulligan and Lafayette, a harder endeavor than he expected, given Mulligan’s stockiness and Lafayette’s tendency to spread his legs wherever he pleased.

Lafayette took a long draw from the bottle. “Mulligan this is, how you say, utter shit.”

“Fuck you, man.”

Laf handed the bottle to Laurens. Laurens held onto it, feeling the weight of it in his hand. A thousand secrets waiting to be poured out, a chance to be someone completely different. Someone he wasn’t sure he wanted to be. But stuck in the backseat as Burr drove them through the back roads of rural Ohio, he wondered if he really had a choice.

He took a sip and came up choking.

“See, Mulligan, I told you it was shit. Laurens agrees with me,” Lafayette said.

“I said no such thing,” Laurens replied, wincing at the taste. “What is it, anyway?”

“Cucumber vodka,” Burr said breezily. “Borrowed from my dad’s liquor cabinet.”

Laurens tried to hand the bottle to Burr, who waved it off. “I don’t drink and drive.”

“Thank god for that,” Laurens muttered.

Burr turned around whisper-quick. “What did you say?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Laurens sighed and took another wince-inducing sip and handed the bottle back to Mulligan.

“Cheers my dude,” Mulligan said. Clearly the alcohol he had drunk was already taking effect.

“Where are we going anyway?” Laurens leaned forward, addressing Burr.

“Just shut up and drink your vodka, Laurens.”

* * *

 

Shutting up and drinking his vodka was a good social strategy when hanging out with the Squad, Laurens had decided. They were back at Burr’s house, passing the bottle back and forth. His head was spinning and his limbs felt way too loose. Standing up would probably have some consequences at this point. He honestly had no idea what to say to any of them; talking to Eliza was so much easier. There he never had to worry about what words came out of his mouth.   
  
“Man, you have so many freckles.” Mulligan poked Laurens in the nose.

“They’re cute,” Lafayette decided.

“Thanks, I think,” Laurens mumbled.

“God, could you be any more of a headcase?” The vodka gave Burr fangs, though it didn’t take much to draw out his claws, if Laurens was being perfectly honest.

“I could try,” Laurens offered helpfully.

“Laf, you got a light?” Mulligan sat up with great difficulty.

“I swear to god, Mulligan, if you smoke that shit in here you’re going to make everything fucking stink,” Burr snapped. “Could you go one day without being a stoner?”

“I could,” Mulligan said thoughtfully, “But why would I?”

Laurens looked up at his fingers. Fingers were great. They could grip things. He wiggled them, and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Laf asked.

“Fingers,” Laurens replied.

“Clearly, you don’t even need weed,” Burr said.

“I mean, fingers are kind of weird, man,” Mulligan said, flexing his hand. “When you really think about it.”

“Well, when you really think about it, we’re all monkeys. Or something.” Laurens’ words were slurring together.

He could vaguely hear Burr making some sort of scathing reply, but he didn’t care. He was floating. Floating oh-so-pleasantly above Sherwood, above his childhood in South Carolina, above everything and everyone. He wished he could go on floating forever. He wondered what Eliza had against drinking. Drinking was great. Eliza! He sat up so quickly his head spun. He had to talk to Eliza. He missed Eliza, an ache inside his chest that did not threaten to abate.

“Hey, Burr, can I use your phone?”

“Whatever.” Burr waved his hand dismissively.

Laurens stood up, and promptly fell over again. “Fuck,” he muttered.

Mulligan and Lafayette promptly cracked up.

“Don’t talk mean like that,” Laurens said.

“God, you’re gone,” Burr snapped.

“We weren’t talking, my dude,” Mulligan replied.

“Phone’s in the kitchen, loser,” Burr pointed the way, and Laurens gave getting up another go, with more success.

He didn’t know how he got to the kitchen, but he located the phone quickly, dialing a number he remembered no matter how inebriated he was. She picked up after the second ring.

“Hello?”

‘Liza, your voice sounds like pie.”

“John? Is that you?”

“Always, baby.”

“Are….you quite all right?” He could hear the concern in her voice.

“Never better.” Standing up seemed too complicated, so he sunk back down to the ground again. Thank God for extended cords.

“Okay…”

“I miss you, Eliza,” he said, his words running together. “Like, a lot.”

“I miss you, too, John,” she replied, as sweet as ever. God, he loved her. What he wouldn’t give for a moment with her right now.

“I wish you could sit next to me, and run your hands through my hair. I love you. I love you like a lot. Like I wish I could kiss you, like on your temple. Your skin is so soft. And you smell good, like roses and burny paper.”

“John, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. I might have had some vodka.” He laughed. “A lot of vodka. Vodka tastes bad, but gooder the more you drink it.”

He could hear her sigh. “Do you need me to pick you up, John? I can borrow my dad’s car.”

“No, ‘Liza. Just be beautiful. Like you are. You’re so beautiful. And pure.” His stomach punched, deep down and he stumbled to his feet. “I don’t remember what I was saying but I gotta go throw up now.”

“John, I think I ought to come over, where are you?”

“No! No!” He tried to imagine Eliza pulling up to Burr’s mansion. The image did not compute. “Anyway, gonna go throw up. Love you, bye.”

He hung up the phone and stumbled to the bathroom, cursing cucumber vodka the entire way.

* * *

 

“I’m going to close this and it’s going to sound like a gunshot.” Laurens leaned up against his locker, staring into the void. His eyes were rimmed in red. His head was pounding. His stomach was doing its best impression of the Olympic gymnastics team. Meanwhile, Burr looked completely fine, as if he hadn’t consumed anything at all.

Laurens pressed his forehead against the cold metal of his locker. It was a brief respite.

“John?” A gentle voice interrupted the throbbing in his head, and his heart sunk. He had vague memories of calling Eliza last night.

“Hey,” he mumbled, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“Are you all right?” She asked.

“Uh, that’s relative.”

“I thought as much. Open your eyes.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes.”

So he did. Eliza held out a flask, and he waved it away, too fucked up to even consider what Eliza was doing with booze.

“I’m never drinking ever again.”

“It’s not alcohol. It’s ginger ale.”

Color flooded his cheeks. “You’re an angel.”

“Yo, Laurens!” Mulligan approached him, and he groaned inwardly.

“Laurens, Burr says haul ass to the table, pronto.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He turned to Eliza. “I’ll see you later, I guess.”

“Yeah, of course!”

Aaron Burr was holding court at the best table in the cafeteria, flanked by Laf, who was picking at his food.

“Good, you’re here.” Burr looked at Laurens, and he was reminded again of that microscope. There was something freaky about the way he could stare at you, as if he knew all of your secrets. Laurens squirmed a little. “I need a forgery in Maria Reynolds’ handwriting.”

“Sure, I guess.”

Burr pulled out a piece of paper from a notebook, and turned to Laf.

“Laf, Laurens needs something to write on. Bend over.”

Laf did as he was told, and Laurens wondered why he was forced to such humiliation when there was a table right in front of them. But he didn’t dare voice his question out loud.

“Hello beautiful,” Burr started off, and Laurens began scribbling, a sinking feeling in his chest. “I have been watching you and thinking about us in the old days. I hope you can come to my homecoming party this weekend. Miss you.”

“You should add some x’s and o’s,” Mulligan suggested, and Burr nodded.

“Yes, do that.”

“Okay…what’s this for, Burr?”

“I just found out that Maria used to hang out with Eliza Schuyler.”

Shit. Laurens’ stomach began to churn. Nothing good could come of this. “I mean, we all did,” he said, knowing his defense was lukewarm at best.

“Yeah, but we didn’t all kiss on the football field in kindergarten,” Burr added.

“Oh, I remember that,” Mulligan said. Laurens had to resist the tempting urge—very tempting—to punch him in the face. Fighting would only land him back where he started, if not worse.

“Oh, Maria!” Burr waved over Maria, who was, as always, with Theodosia.

Maria sauntered up. Laurens could see, if he swung that way, how someone could want her. She was undeniably beautiful. But in his mind, Eliza was prettier.

“Can you be a darling and give this note to Eliza Schuyler, please?” Burr asked, all charm.

The girls giggled and nodded.

“Fuck,” Laurens muttered under his breath. His heart ached for his best friend. He turned to Aaron. “Please, don’t do this.”

“What?” Laf piped up. “It will give her shower nozzle masturbation fodder for weeks.”

“Shut up, Laf!”

“Sorry, Burr.”

“Eliza’s a good person, really, she doesn’t deserve—“

Burr held up his hand in a stop motion. “Are we going to have a problem? You got a bone to pick? You’ve come so far, why now are you pulling on my dick?”

Laurens opened his mouth to respond but Burr continued. “I’d normally slap your face off, and everyone here could watch. But I’m feeling nice, here’s some advice. Listen up, bitch.”

Laurens watched as Maria approached Eliza, slipping the note into her hand. He wanted to rise up. He had to. There had to be something better than this. Things could beautiful, he truly believed that. But maybe not with the Squad in charge.

“Talk less. Smile more. Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.”

“You’re being serious?” Laurens managed to gasp out.

“Fools who run their mouths off wind up dead. Or, like her.” Burr pointed to Eliza, who was rushing up to Laurens.

“John, you’ll never believe this! Maria invited me to her homecoming party!”

Laurens swallowed the lump in his throat. “Color me stoked.”

“I’m so happy!” Eliza departed, and Burr turned to face Laurens. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Laurens couldn’t meet his eyes when he spoke next. “No,” he said mechanically. “That wasn’t so hard.”


	3. Fight For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the new kid, and Laurens' world turns upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Lams fic that doesn't feature angsty pining, so hopefully I did okay without, as angsty pining is kind of my life. Also in case you haven't noticed, Eliza is going to have a bigger role in this fic than Martha does in the stage show, mainly because I really enjoy writing and I'm not going to lie this entire fic is self-indulgent trash. Also: the bold is Hamilton, the italics are Laurens in the note-passing scene. Come find me on Tumblr @piecesofkessa

“Hey, John!”

Laurens turned around in an instant. The only person who called him John besides his family was Eliza. His best friend was accompanied by someone Laurens had never seen before. Must be a new kid; they didn’t get many of them at Westerberg. Whoever he was, he was freaking gorgeous, with dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, warm brown eyes, and an absolutely arrogant way of walking that made Laurens think that perhaps Burr had met his match.

“Hey, Eliza,” he said, automatically looking for the Squad in the hallway, but not finding them. He let out a sigh of relief. For a brief moment, he could be himself.

“Alexander, this is my best friend, John Laurens,” Eliza said, pointing to Laurens with a flourish. Laurens stuck out his hand.  “John, this is Alexander Hamilton. He just moved here, so I volunteered to show him around.”

Alexander took Laurens’ hand, and shook it. It was stupid, Laurens knew it was stupid, but he swore time stopped for the brief moment that their hands met. He felt himself leaning in closer to Hamilton, not even trying to press his body against Hamilton’s but yearning to anyway. He had never felt so attracted to someone in his life. Alexander Hamilton. He found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss Alexander Hamilton.

“Get a grip on yourself, Laurens,” he muttered. This was ridiculous.

“Huh?” Eliza twirled a lock of curly hair around her finger.

“Nothing,” Laurens said quickly. He turned to Hamilton. “So where are you from?”

Hamilton shrugged his shoulders. “Not important; there’s a million things I haven’t done.”

“Good luck with that here,” Laurens said without thinking.

Hamilton cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, uh,” Laurens looked down at his shoes. Maybe he could think better if he didn’t get lost in Hamilton’s smoky eyes. “It’s just, Sherwood isn’t exactly New York City. Trust me, you’ll be the most exciting thing to happen in ten years.”

“Oh, John, I wouldn’t say that,” Eliza said, ever the optimist. “There’s plenty nice things about Sherwood.”

Bless Eliza and her ability to see the good in everything and everyone. Laurens wished he could be that positive.

“I’m sure there are,” Hamilton said, and Laurens couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic, or genuinely sincere with Eliza. If he was being sarcastic, Eliza couldn’t tell, Laurens was certain of it.

“Do you want to have lunch with us, John?” Eliza asked.

How he wanted to say yes. How he wished his life were different, from that fateful moment when he ran into Burr. That things could be different. He checked over his shoulder, and sure enough, Burr, Lafayette and Mulligan were headed in his direction.

“That sounds great, Eliza, but I gotta motor. You know how Burr is.”

Eliza turned to Hamilton. “Alexander, John is friends with the Squad. It’s quite exciting; they’re the most popular at Westerberg.”

Hamilton arched an eyebrow as he gave the Squad a piercing one-over. “How very,” he said.

“I guess I’ll see y’all later.”

“Laurens!” Lafayette cried, and Laurens reluctantly parted from Hamilton and Eliza.

Burr gave him an arching look that Laurens couldn’t quite read as they navigated the cafeteria and went to their usual table.

“Geez, Laurens, drool much?” He said sharply.

Laurens focused on his peanut butter and jelly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You were practically stripping for that new kid.” Next to him, Lafayette and Mulligan laughed.

Laurens knew he was bright red.  He wished he weren’t so obvious, but then again, Burr could pick up emotion from a butterfly wing. It was a talent that Laurens had come to hate.

“Who is that new kid anyway?” Lafayette asked.

“Yeah, he looks so…scrappy,” Mulligan added.

Both turned to Laurens for the answer. Laurens let out a barely audible sigh. “His name is Alexander Hamilton. That’s all I know.”

“Interesting,” mused Burr. “He clearly didn’t get the memo about hanging out with Eliza Schuyler.”

Laurens felt irritation run up his spine. He wished they would just leave Eliza alone. She didn’t have any friends save for himself, so why deprive her of Alex, too?

Burr was saying something to Lafayette, and Laurens tuned them out in favor of watching Hamilton. He was talking to Eliza, and gesturing wildly with his hands. Laurens would give anything to be next to him, to hear what they were saying.  He tipped his chair back, hoping that if he could tune out the bullshit going on around him, he would magically be able to understand Hamilton’s words. So absorbed was he that he didn’t notice that he had tipped his chair too far back until it was too late. With a thunderous crash he landed on the cafeteria floor.

For a brief moment, it seemed like the entire cafeteria stopped in time as Laurens laid on the cold linoleum floor. There was dead silence, as he realized the student body was uncertain whether or not they could laugh, given he was a member of the Squad, and such things could have disastrous consequences.

“You’re such a spaz, Laurens,” Burr said coolly as he dipped a French fry in mustard.

Wincing, Laurens rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, I know.” It was safer to agree.

The cafeteria resumed its usual bustle, as if nothing had happened. He returned his gaze to Eliza’s table, where he noticed that John Adams was approaching. Laurens felt his heart sink a little. Adams, along with his girlfriend, Abigail, were known for writing scathing editorials in the school paper. They couldn’t resist the siren song of a new student, he knew that much.

Laurens watched as Adams spoke, though he was too far to make out the exact words, he saw Hamilton’s expression change from open curiosity to pure rage. He stood up, and although he was shorter than Adams he seemed mightier in that moment, powered by a deep seated resentment, a flare of pride.

“Sit down, John, you fat motherfucker!” Hamilton’s voice boomed across the cafeteria. Laurens couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Adams met Hamilton’s yelling with a coiled fist. But Hamilton was too swift for him; his own fist met with Adams’ highly breakable nose. Blood began pouring from it, and Adams was down in a single punch.

“Son of a bitch!”

Mulligan turned to Laurens. “Who knew the new kid could fight, huh?”

“Yeah,” Laurens said absently, still utterly transfixed by Hamilton. A teacher had intervened, handing out a pink detention slip to Hamilton. That was when Laurens made up his mind—he had to get into detention, at all costs.

* * *

 

Getting into detention was easier than he thought. He just had to tell his math teacher to fuck off, and boom, the pink slip was in his hands. He knew that Burr would be pissed, that Laurens was not with him after school, but Laurens couldn’t give less of a shit.

“Take a seat, John,” Mr. Washington said.

There was an open seat right next to Hamilton, and Laurens walked casually towards it, as if he hadn’t been thinking about this all day.

“No talking,” Washington said. “Eyes forward.”

Laurens did as he was told, and as soon as Washington turned to his thick tome of military history, a piece of folded paper fluttered onto his desk. Heart leaping, he opened it.

**What did you do to end up here, huh?**

Hamilton. It had to be Hamilton. Laurens risked peeking over his shoulder and met Hamilton’s eyes. A subtle nod.

Laurens scribbled a reply. _Not even worth discussing._

The paper came back to him quickly. **Surprised you’re here without your friends.**

_They’re not really my friends. More like…people I work with. And our job is being popular and shit._

**Seems like a hell of a job.**

Laurens loved Hamilton’s handwriting; the messy scribble was nearly impossible to decipher, but that didn’t stop him from the words being carved into his mind and heart.

_It is. Am I allowed to ask what caused you to punch Adams in the face?_

**He called me a creole bastard.**

Anger settled into his bones. He scrawled with passion. _What the actual FUCK._

**It’s one way to be welcomed to Westerberg, that’s for sure.**

_I’m sorry. I would say that not everyone is like that, but I’d be lying._

**Your friend Eliza isn’t.**

_Eliza has a huge heart. I wish that could be enough._

**Not a lot changes, no matter where I go. Except you.**

Laurens swore his heart stopped for the briefest of moments. Was Hamilton actually flirting with him, or was he imagining it? Get ahold of yourself, Laurens, he thought as he risked another glance at Hamilton, who, damn him, was still unbelievably gorgeous. Laurens knew, in that moment, that was he gone. Toast. Dead. One look into his liquid dark eyes and it would be all over, his heart hanging on his sleeve.

 His hands shook as he scrawled a reply. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Washington wasn’t sitting in his chair, reading. In fact, the older man plucked the note straight out of Laurens’ hands as he attempted to pass it to Hamilton.

“I’ll take that.”

Laurens’ heart sunk; he uttered a silent prayer that Washington wouldn’t read the note out loud or something equally humiliating. His luck held; Washington tossed the note into the wastebasket without a second glance.

“Eyes on me, John,” Washington said.

“Yes, sir.”

Not a few moments passed, though, before another piece of paper landed on his desk. Laurens opened it with caution.

**Laurens, I like you a lot.**

He didn’t dare scribble a response for fear of Washington, but he floated all the way home, thinking only of Alexander Hamilton.


End file.
